


The End (So Please Come Home)

by Rainy182



Series: Song Based Fics [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, End of the World, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, I'll add tags later, M/M, POV Peter Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Past Relationship(s), Peter Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale was kicked out the pack, Sad Ending, Spark Stiles, Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22161802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainy182/pseuds/Rainy182
Summary: "Loosely" based off the song "If The World Was Ending" by JP SAX and Julia Micheals
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Song Based Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/931110
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90





	The End (So Please Come Home)

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably remain a one-shot:)

When it happened, Peter was sitting in traffic on his way home from work. It wasn't until he got home and turned on the radio that he heard the news that nuclear bomb landed in Washington D.C and another one heading towards San Francisco. His phone was already in hand before the radio host could continue giving instructions for shelter. 

He felt panic when he was going through his contacts, a dread that built slow in his stomach until his filled his entire body. It worsened as he couldn't find the contact he was looking for. 

_ Where is he? Scott, Steve, Tate-  _

Suddenly Peter remembered. Tossing his phone on the floor, ignoring the sound of the small electronic cracking on the floor, he made his way to his bedroom. Once inside he pushed the slightly loose piece of wall behind his door to the side. The boards creaking under the pressure and revealing a small cubby that held a somewhat rusted phone that was around two generations old. 

When he pulled it out he ignored the cracks and how the background of the photo was himself and  _ him _ . He ignored the pang in his still fast beating heart too, too busy quickly pulling up the contacts page searching for a name. 

_ Scott, Steve, Stiles- _

"Please pick up," he found himself whispering as he held the phone to his ear. The sound of the mechanic ring filling what felt like the entire room. The only other sound was Peter's breaths as he stayed frozen, hunched in front of the small hole in the wall. 

When the line picked up he finally let himself turn and slump against the space of the wall that was intact. 

" _ Stiles _ ," his voice was still filled with worry, but now a level of calm was starting to take over. 

"Hey Zombiewolf," the voice cracked through the phone, "Who would've thought the world would end this way huh?" 

Peter felt himself smile a little while Stiles released a small laugh ending in a cough. His eyes closed as he listens to the voice on the line, imagining the man attached to it, and wondering if he still looked how Peter's memory painted. 

"Come home," was what suddenly left Peter's mouth, cutting off whatever the mage was saying. "Please, if the world is ending, I want-  _ need  _ \- you next to me. If it's too crazy in Quantico-" 

"I'm in Beacon Hills," Stiles said suddenly, "Have been for the past two weeks." 

Silence stretched out between them. It was comfortable, understanding, but silent. Peter wasn't surprised Stiles was in Beacon Hills and didn't call him. They didn't exactly end on happy terms a year ago, not angry, just not happy. His somewhat hurt, maybe even disappointed, but not surprised. 

"Oh…," was all he could say to fill the silence, "I understand." 

"My Dad is here Peter," Stiles said quietly, too quiet for human ears, but not for him, "I can't leave him." 

"I would never ask you to Darling," the pet name slipping out of Peter automatically without thought. Old habits, especially the beautiful ones, die hard. 

Silence filled the line again, this time heavy, sad, and so so loud. It stretched out for what must have been five minutes, nothing but their breaths filling each others ears. Maybe if Peter was a better man he could have ignored the soft sound of crying too. And maybe if he wasn't a proud man he could admit that he was crying silently too. 

"Don't make me say it Peter," whispered Stiles silently, "Don't make me say it again miłość." 

_ I would never make you do that darling, not again.  _ He took a deep breath, his emotions shuttering as he let it out slowly and silently. When Peter spoke again his usual aloofness was in his tone. 

"Well," he couldn't help but keep his eyes closed though, imagining a different outcome, "send the ragtag pack of Beacon Hills my regards. I guess Scott got his wish after all." 

He ends the call before either one of them could take the change to let it run longer. Take the chance to convince the other to make the wrong choice. Take the chance to open wounds and reminisce and wonder and hope. He wonders when he got so good as ending things before they started. 

Maybe he'll remember before his sun sets. 

* * *

When Beacon Hills shook for the last time Stiles knew immediately what was happening. Unlike the rest of the town he knew that the bombs were coming and unlike the rest of the pack he knew that the land was now protecting itself first and foremost. It's why he told everyone he could contact to get back to Beacon Hills where it was safe and survivable. Words, that in the very beginning, he never thought he would utter. 

He couldn't contact one person though. Not that it would matter. Peter Hale made his bed a long time ago, fully ready and happy to lay in it, alone. That doesn't mean Stiles doesn't look at flights to San Francisco for three days leading up to the first bomb before all planes were grounded. 

It also doesn't mean he doesn't carry around his old phone from high school everywhere he goes. It doesn't mean he doesn't regret that it's spelled to remain locked to everything but one incoming call. That he doesn't sit in his childhood bedroom while his father sleep downstairs with the pack staring at the phone.

He ignores the radio in the background, reporting the planned route for all the bombs in the US, it doesn't really affect him. Beacon Hills is a bubble of magic with a Neptem determined to live its newfound life to the full life expectancy. But he knows there is someone in the country that's listening to this broadcast and doesn't know that. 

Someone who thinks he's in Quantico and might have been affected by the first bomb. So he sits in the dark, the new moon high in the sky and completely hidden in the shadow of the sun. 

When it rings he almost doesn't answer. A nagging voice in the back of his head afraid to feel the pain again tugging at his mind. So he watches the phone glow and the name  _ Peter  _ flashing across the screen. 

Its the second to last ring that springs him into action, knowing that if he doesn't answer he'll never have a chance to again. Afterall, he had Peter's phone number taken from his memory, and he no longer knows where the wolf lived exactly in San Francisco. So he picks up, his breath slightly labored in fear. 

Peter's voice suddenly filled his ear, " _ Stiles _ ". The sound of worry filling the entire word.

"Hey Zombiewolf," he couldn't help the way his voice cracked, even as he tried to make light of the situation, "Who would've thought the world would end this way huh?" 

He wonders what Peter looks like now. If he looked the same as a year ago, if he still had laugh lines and kept his hair a dark brown. He wonders what the man is wearing, not sexually, just so he can update the picture in his head. Derek stopped updating him when he wouldn't stop smelling like tears every time he did. 

"Well," he found himself saying suddenly, "I did. Perks of working with Washington sometimes. I would've warned you but-"  _ You never gave me the chance _ a resentful thought fluttered through. "But I no one had your number." 

"Come home," was the response that Peter gave, his voice certain, "Please, if the world is ending, I want-  _ need  _ \- you next to me. If it's too crazy in Quantico-" 

"I'm in Beacon Hills," Stiles cut him off, "Have been for the past two weeks." 

Silence stretched out between them. It was comfortable, understanding, but silent. Stiles wish he could say more, could make promises and run off to San Francisco. But he can't, and there's nobody to blame but each other for that. He could share that too, how he would give it all up to go back in time and try again. Would even give it all to try again now. But his family is here, and as it was made very clear a year again, he has no family in San Francisco.

"Oh…," Peters tone soft, in a closing off sort of way, "I understand." 

"My Dad is here Peter," Stiles says quietly, knowing saying this is a lot easier than saying everything else, "I can't leave him." 

"I would never ask you to Darling," Stiles feels the first tear fall with that word. 

Silence filled the line again, this time heavy, sad, and so so loud. It stretched out for what must have been five minutes, nothing but their breaths filling each others ears. It was time to say goodbye, they both knew it, but Stiles just couldn't. He can't go through his last words to Peter being goodbye again - in anger or not. 

"Don't make me say it Peter," whispered Stiles silently, "Don't make me say it again miłość." 

"Well," he couldn't help but cry some more at the cold tone in Peter's voice tone he used to guard his heart. "Send the ragtag pack of Beacon Hills my regards. I guess Scott got his wish after all." 

The call ended before Stiles could reply a soft okay. The phone turned cold as it powered down, it's one purpose now complete. He just stares at the window in front of him, counting the falling stars and wondering which were the bombs hurtling towards the San Francisco now. 


End file.
